


And... We're Live!

by cursemyshortarms (marispots)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Investigative Journalists, Alternate Universe - Newsroom, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, SHIDGE, also klance is a subplot, it's mild but it'll be there later in the story, maybe some angst down the road, newsroom shenanigans, pidge is a producer, shiro is a news anchor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-09 16:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7808464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marispots/pseuds/cursemyshortarms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pidge Gunderson joins Altean Nightly News as an associate producer, her first big job out of college. She’s got her sights set on bigger and better things - the national, critically acclaimed Voltron News to be precise - so she has no plans of getting attached to her current job. However, when news anchor Takashi Shirogane steps into her life, she can’t help but reconsider that previous claim. (Shidge, with Klance as a sideplot)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is such a self-indulgent fic because I work at a college news station and I also really love Voltron. It was like killing two birds with one stone.
> 
> Enjoy!

Pidge had never been one to decorate or personalize her workspace. She only ever deemed the essentials necessary; while in college, her dorm room was barren except for her bed, her desk, and her textbooks. Back in grade school, she’d all but refused to color her pencil holder, instead opting to leave it a plain white.

To no one’s surprise, her dorm room and her grade school desk hadn’t received many compliments.

The only personal item Pidge deemed worthy of showcasing was a small, framed photo she’d taken with her father and brother, which she currently placed down on her new desk with pride, straightening it slightly and beaming at it.

After throwing some pencils and pens carelessly into her drawer, she was finished with setting up her workspace.

It hadn’t taken much effort, really.

“First job, Pidge,” she muttered to herself, sitting down in her chair and wheeling forward. She flicked her computer on and grinned when she noticed the new user that’d been created for her on the server. “Don’t screw anything up… not that you’ll screw anything up, you know what you’re doing obviously. Really, producing isn’t rocket science or anything, and the Garrison taught you everything you need to know, so you really shouldn’t worry about –”

“You like talking to yourself, don’t you, new kid?”

“Argh!” Pidge wheeled back, nearly tipping out of her chair as she glanced up at the tan, lanky man draped over the side of her cubicle.

“Yo,” he greeted. “You’re the new associate producer, I’m guessing? I’m Lance, your boss.”

“My boss?” Pidge questioned, regarding him curiously. _This guy?_

“He’s not really your boss,” a warmer voice sounded. Pidge whirled to face the other side of her cubicle, where a larger, dark-skinned man peeked his head out over the wall, grinning. “Technically, our only boss here is Coran.”

“Hunk, come on! Couldn’t you play along?” Lance complained, groaning.

“We shouldn’t scare the new people, it’s not nice!”

“But it’s funny!”

Pidge turned her head this way and that, looking at the two men who surrounded her desk.

“So… are you two my cubicle neighbors?” Pidge asked, grinning. Hunk, the calmer of the two, smiled back.

“Yup! I’m Hunk, and that’s Lance. We’re the nightly news’s co-executive producers. But don’t worry – we’re not really your _bosses_ , just your seniors I guess.”

“We call the shots, you help,” Lance said lazily. “I dunno, it’s safe to say that we _are_ you bosses.”

“ _Lance.”_

“Okay, okay!” Lance threw his hands up. “We’re your friendly older co-workers who you happen to have to take orders from.”

Hunk sighed. “It’s an improvement, I guess.”

Pidge couldn’t help but laugh at the two older men and their bickering. “It’s nice to meet you both,” she told them. “I’m Pidge. Pidge Gunderson.”

“I’ve heard of you,” Hunk grinned. “You graduated from the Garrison?”

“Yes, just this May.”

“Lance and I graduated from there a few years back!”

The Garrison School of Journalism, or just the Garrison, to be short, was the local and prestigious journalism school a few towns over. It’s where most local reporters, producers, and writers got their start.

Pidge had been ecstatic when she’d gotten in, especially due to the fact that she’d grown up so close to the school. She’d aspired to be a journalist since she was a little girl, and now here she was – sitting in her first cubicle at her very first job as a producer.

It was onwards and upwards from this point forth. Just like her brother, Matt, and their father before them… Pidge would be a successful producer at Voltron News someday; she just knew it.

But for now, she started here.

“Here,” Hunk said, handing her a spiral notebook. “It’s sort of like the Altean News code-of-conduct, I guess. Everything you need to know about the format of the show, and our station’s statement on journalistic integrity and stuff. You know… what you learned in your communication law class, probably.”

Pidge took the book, flipping through it and scanning the pages. “Thanks,” she grinned. It’d be a quick read, no doubt. Maybe she’d skim it after dinner that night, in her crappy little apartment that she’d just rented out.

She wasn’t making that much at her new job, exactly, but she could hardly complain. At least she _had_ a job right out of school.

“The show starts at six, but we’ve already laid out the rundown,” Hunk continued to explain as Pidge zipped the book inside of her bag. “We’ll need your help later with writing some stories and some tosses into the script, but Lance will show you around the studio first.”

“ _Me_?” Lance sputtered, crossing his arms. “Why me?”

“Because I’ve got to make some phone calls,” Hunk told him. “I know you won’t do them if I leave you here alone. Besides… Keith is in the control room right now.”

Pidge tilted her head, studying the knowing look on Hunk’s face. Lance flushed bright red behind her, muttering under his breath furiously and stomping away from their row of cubicles.

“Thanks again, Hunk,” Pidge said, grabbing her bag and hurrying after Lance. She followed behind him, and couldn’t help the question that rose to her lips. “So, who’s Keith?”

“A big, fat jerk.”

“I was hoping for an answer involving, I don’t know, his _profession_ maybe?”

“A big, fat jerk who’s a reporter for the station,” Lance grumbled. “Is that better?”

“Much,” Pidge grinned.

Lance pushed open the two glass doors that led into the studio, and Pidge followed behind him, glancing around the large, open room. It was eleven in the morning, so the morning newscast had already ended. The studio lights were dim, but the news desk still looked impressive regardless. _Altean News_ was printed on the front in glossy letters. To the side of the desk, Pidge spotted the green screen that they used for weather reports.

“This is so much nicer than our station at the Garrison,” Pidge laughed, spinning around and craning her neck to look up at the camera riggings.

“You’re in the big leagues now,” Lance muttered, heading towards a room off to the side of the studio. “If you’re impressed now, wait until you see the control room. Oh, but fair warning – Mr. Broody is in there right now.”

“I thought he was a big, fat jerk?”

“That too.”

He pushed open the door, ushering Pidge inside. Large monitors lined the walls, along with a row of computers and a massive switchboard that Pidge longed to tinker with. She’d done her fair share of technical directing in college, but this switchboard was on an entirely different level than the one she’d used at the Garrison.

A young, dark-haired man sat in the corner of the room, hunched over a laptop and typing furiously.

“Keith, you know that when they gave you this job they also gave you a _desk_ , right?” Lance drawled, approaching him.

The young man, Keith, ceased his typing and looked up in annoyance. “I work better in here. I can’t hear your voice from here.”

“Ha ha,” Lance deadpanned, arms crossed. Pidge couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, hiding her mouth behind her hand.

Keith glanced behind Lance’s shoulder, noticing the younger girl. “Hey,” he greeted. “You new?”

“I started today,” Pidge said, extending a hand. “Pidge Gunderson.”

“Keith,” he said, shaking her hand. He seemed pleasant enough, but she couldn’t help but notice Lance’s silent seething beside her. Why didn’t he like him? Was it actually hatred? Was it a crush? Pidge grinned to herself at the thought. Although focused on her work and her career, Pidge also liked her fair share of gossip. She’d have to question Hunk on the nature of their relationship later when she had the chance.

“So, are you a producer?” Keith asked.

“Associate producer.”

Keith nodded. “I’m a reporter for the nightly show. I was just about to head out and cover a story, actually. But I’ll be back tonight for the show, if you have any questions. I’m sure _this one_ hasn’t been all that helpful.” He pointed to Lance before closing his computer up and stashing it in his bag.

“I’ve been _very_ helpful,” Lance argued, frowning. “This morning I held the door open for Allura, and she basically swooned.”

“Okay… 1. I was talking about being helpful toward _Pidge_ , 2. I really doubt that she _swooned_ , and 3. I could care less.”

Lance spluttered, taking a step forward as if wanting to pick a fight with the reporter, but Keith merely sidestepped him and stopped in front of Pidge instead. “Have a good first day,” he told her.

He shot one last glare at Lance before leaving the control room.

“He thinks he’s _so_ slick, just leaving like that!” Lance seethed, stomping around the room and muttering to himself. “Who does that guy think he is, anyways?! Sure, he has nice hair and deep purple eyes and he’s handsome on TV and all, but that doesn’t give him the right –”

Pidge tuned out Lance’s mutterings, and instead opted to sit in the chair in front of the switchboard and examine the controls. She recognized some features on the monitor – the preview and program screens, and the image server and the graphic channels – but there were others aspects that she couldn't even name. Different colored buttons and switches were lit up before her, and each one could control the program in some crazy way.

“This thing is amazing,” she breathed, letting her fingers skim over the buttons.

“And expensive,” Lance commented, having finally ceased his temper-tantrum. “And confusing as hell.”

Pidge nodded in agreement. “I’m sure my dad would know how to work it,” she said. “He did a lot of operational and technical work before he switched into producing.”

“You’re dad’s a producer?”

“And my brother,” Pidge shrugged. “I guess you could say that journalism runs in the family.”

“Huh. I’ve never heard the family name Gunderson before,” Lance remarked, pressing a few buttons on the switchboard and watching the previewed cameras switch back and forth on the screen.

Pidge bit her lip and pushed her glasses closer to her face, turning away from the older producer. “They did more local news than anything,” she told him.

That wasn’t true at all, but Pidge had learned to run with the lie for the last four years she’d been in college. She was a Holt. Katie Holt, to be exact, but after getting into the Garrison she decided to change her name to her childhood nickname, Pidge. Gunderson was just a surname she’d thought of on the spot, when she’d been filing the papers in her local town hall.

Her father and brother both worked for Voltron News, the undisputed, most popular national news network in the country. Her father, on the verge of retiring, worked as an executive producer for their flagship show, Voltron Nightly News.

And her brother, Matt? She looked up to him more than anyone else in the whole world. Matt majored in international journalism, and after working for a few local papers writing about international affairs, landed a gig at Voltron News as a foreign correspondent. Of course the last name had helped him with the job, but Matt was amazing regardless. The articles and reports he churned out were top-notch, and Pidge had read and watched every single one with eagerness and excitement.

She loved Matt to death, which was why the kidnapping situation eight years ago had shaken her to her very core.

It was the other thing that the Holts were famous for. Impressive journalists, sure, but also the family that had made headlines when they pleaded with overseas terrorists for their son’s safe return.

In the end, Matt was held in captivity for a year before a price was bargained for his release.

He and a few other journalists, men and women Pidge had never met, were freed. Matt came home. He was shaken for a few weeks… but then he went right back to his job as if nothing had happened.

And so, being a Holt was a pretty big deal. If she wanted to, Pidge could have flaunted the name and earned an entry-level job into Voltron News right on the spot…

… Which is why she changed her name.

If Pidge was going to work in the footsteps of her father and brother, then she was going to do it _her_ way, without any help.

She’d always been stubborn like that. She wanted to work hard, and make her own connections.

It wouldn’t feel right if she climbed the ladder to success simply because she was a Holt.

“Hey, Earth to Gunderson,” Lance joked, flicking Pidge on the forehead and bringing her back to reality.

"Ow!” Pidge yelped, rubbing her head and glaring at Lance.

“I know the switchboard is cool, but you don’t have to get _that_ absorbed in it,” Lance laughed, standing up from his seat and stretching. “Besides, you won’t get a chance to _touch_ this thing during a live show. We’ve got people whose jobs is it just to run this thing.”

“Too bad,” Pidge muttered, shaking her head and standing up after him. Sometimes she got a little too caught up in her own thoughts. With her mind constantly running a mile a minute, it was hard _not_ to.

“You met Coran at your interview, right?” Lance asked.

 _Coran_. The redheaded, friendly older fellow with the accent and also the station’s manager and owner. Yes, Pidge had met him. He’d just given her the job yesterday.

“Yeah,” Pidge answered. “He’s… interesting.”

“He’s crazy,” Lance snickered. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it, don’t worry. We all rag on Coran – he doesn’t mind.” He threw open the door to the control room, ushering her to follow. “If you’ve already met Coran, then we’ve only got one final stop.”

“One final stop?” Pidge echoed, following him out into the brightly lit hallway. They weaved in between rows of cubicles, Lance greeting other producers and flirting (unsuccessfully) with other female coworkers before stopping in front of a few offices. Pidge recognized Coran’s office to the left because that’s where she’d conducted her interview earlier in the week, but she was unfamiliar with the other two offices to the right.

TAKASHI SHIROGANE and ALLURA ALTEA were printed on the doors in gold letters.

“The anchors?” Pidge questioned, tilting her head. She’d heard of both of them of course, while in her interview with Coran.

“Of course you’ve gotta meet the anchors of the show,” Lance grinned. “Come on.”

He knocked on Allura’s door first. A beautiful, dark-skinned woman with long, thick white hair answered.

At first, she flashed a warm smile down at Pidge, but her expression soured when she looked up at Lance.

“Heeeeello, Allura,” Lance whistled, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. Pidge couldn’t believe it. This guy flirted with the anchors as well?!

“Lance,” she sighed, her bright blue eyes filled with annoyance. “Leave.”

“I’m introducing the new kid!”

“I can introduce myself to her just fine, thank you,” Allura said with mock pleasantry. “Goodbye.”

Lance grumbled before leaving the two girls alone.

“He’s actually not horrible, I just like to mess with him,” Allura giggled, extending a hand. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Allura.”

“I’m Pidge Gunderson,” Pidge grinned, shaking her hand.

“You’re filling in our associate producer position, I presume?”

“Yes,” Pidge said, stepping inside the anchor’s office when she held the door open for her. It was brightly decorated with pinks and blues and whites, but Pidge zeroed in on the large picture frame Allura had on her desk in particular. It was Allura as a child, along with an older man with a white beard. It reminded her of her own, smaller picture frame that she’d placed on her own desk just this morning.

“My father,” Allura said, noticing the younger girl’s gaze. “You’re probably wondering why my last name is the same at this station’s?” Pidge glanced back at the name on the door, having hardly noticed it before. “My father founded the station. He passed away a few years ago, and now Coran handles management.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Pidge said sincerely, turning to face the anchor.

“It’s quite alright. He was sick for a long time,” Allura told her. “Anyway, we’re glad to have you on the team, Pidge! We were really struggling without an associate producer. You’ll be a big help to the show.” She grinned. “Besides… we haven’t had another girl on the nightly news team in such a long time! We can go shopping and get our nails and makeup done whenever we like!”

Pidge was about to politely decline on that offer (she’d never been one for nails or makeup or shopping in general) when someone laughed at the door behind them.

“Allura, don’t torture the poor girl on her first day.”

Pidge whirled around to face the older man in the doorway. His dark hair was cut close to his head, with an unusual tuft of white sticking out above his forehead. His expression was kind, but his eyes seemed to carry a hint of seriousness in them, as if he was constantly on guard about something.

He was _handsome_ , Pidge couldn’t deny it.

“Shiro!” Allura groaned, hopping onto her desk and crossing her legs in annoyance. “I wasn’t _torturing_ her.”

Shiro laughed again, and walked into the office and next to Pidge. He towered over her petite frame, and she had to crane her neck just to look him in the eye.

“Takashi Shirogane,” he said, reaching down to shake her hand. “Shiro for short.”

“Oh, you’re the other anchor,” Pidge realized aloud.

“Guilty as charged.”

Well… _that_ must have been a distracting news desk, then. Allura was beautiful, and this guy was just unreal. How could anyone even focus on listening to the news if _these_ were the two reporting on it?

On top of that, Shiro wasn’t even wearing a suit yet. He was dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a dark, long-sleeved shirt. He’d probably look even more distracting in a suit…

Pidge flushed at the thought, turning to glance at Allura, who unfortunately seemed to notice her expression.

“It’s quite alright, Pidge,” Allura teased, a devilish grin on her face. “Everyone gets a little flustered when they first meet Shiro.”

Pidge sputtered, trying to explain that _no,_ she _wasn’t_ flustered, but luckily Shiro hadn’t seemed to pay Allura’s comment any mind. Instead, he was studying Pidge’s appearance, more specifically her hair, which was cut rather short. She’d cut it before college, liking how it stayed out of her face now and didn’t get in the way while she was working.

“Uhh…” Pidge looked up at the older anchor, self-consciously running a few fingers through her dirty blonde locks. Shiro seemed to notice that he was staring because he straightened up, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Sorry,” he told her. “You look familiar, sort of.”

“Familiar…?” Pidge couldn’t imagine how. She’d never met Shiro before, after all. Maybe he’d visited the Garrison while she was still a student? Unlikely, but not impossible. They usually brought in people from the field to talk about their experiences, after all.

“Forget it,” Shiro laughed, clamping a hand down on her shoulder. His hand was oddly cold to the touch. “It’s good to have you on the team, Pidge. I’ll check in with you later today to see how you’re doing.”

“Okay,” Pidge said in surprise, watching as he walked out of the office. She turned to face Allura, who still had that smug grin on her face.

“Isn’t he cute?” Allura winked.

“Uhh, I mean he’s not _not_ attractive, I guess,” Pidge said, rubbing the back of her neck. She glanced between the doorway and Allura again. “Are you two dating?”

“Oh, God no!” Allura laughed, shaking her head. “He’s like my older brother. My older _hot_ brother, but still a brother all the same.”

“Right…”

“Have you met him before?” Allura asked the younger girl, a hand resting under her chin. “He seemed to recognize you.”

“I don’t think so,” Pidge mused.

“Huh. Maybe he knows someone else who looks similar… or maybe he just thought you were cute.”

Pidge stiffened, weary of the glint in the female anchor’s eye. She was definitely going to tease her about her first meeting with Shiro some more, so Pidge desperately wracked her brain for a change in topic.

“Keith,” Pidge stated, watching as Allura’s expression changed to confusion at the reporter’s sudden mention. “And Lance.” At this, Allura nearly fell off the desk, holding her sides as she laughed.

“Y-you already noticed that?” Allura breathed, trying to curb her giggling. “Oh my goodness, where do we start on those two?”

So it seemed Allura was one of the station’s first offenders when it came to gossip. Pidge took note as she leaned her elbows against the desk and looked up at Allura.

“Lance hates him,” Pidge observed, grateful for the change in subject.

“Lance _acts_ like he hates him,” Allura corrected. “Because he doesn't know how else to talk to him.”

“Woooow, I can’t believe you two are talking about Lance and Keith without me,” Hunk sighed from the doorway, stepping inside. Allura grinned.

“Join us, Hunk!” She giggled, patting the spot on the desk next to her.

“As much as I’d _love_ to dissect and analyze their relationship, I have work to do.” He motioned for Pidge. “And so do you.”

“We’ll have this discussion later,” Allura called, waving as the two producers left the anchor’s office and headed back to their cubicles.

“She’s… got a lot of energy,” Pidge said, walking with Hunk.

“She does,” Hunk agreed. “But she’s possibly one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. She’s a hell of an anchor too. I guess Allura is sort of like… the mom of the station. Don’t be freaked out if she tries to tease you about stuff.”

“Already has,” Pidge groaned, and Hunk laughed at her expression.

Pidge sat back down in front of her computer, with Hunk leaning over her shoulder as she logged into her user.

“Pull up ENPS,” Hunk instructed her, pointing to an app on the bottom right hand side of the desktop. Pidge clicked it open.

“I used this program at the Garrison,” she realized, searching though the program’s folders until she found the day’s rundown. She opened it, and could see the show’s format and the stories that Hunk and Lance had already worked on that morning.

“We’ll start you off with tosses for today,” Hunk said. “And later in the week we’ll have you keep an eye out on any news alerts so that you can pitch story ideas.”

Pidge nodded, and smiled at Hunk before setting to work.

Writing tosses was a mindless task, definitely a job they were giving her so that she could settle in and not be overwhelmed on her first day.

Pidge spent the next hour clicking through the rundown and finding the stories that needed tosses to lead into them. A few tosses she wrote were serious – such as one leading into a story about an apartment fire that killed an elderly man the night before – but other tosses were more lighthearted, such as a story about a local woman who held a public pool party for dogs and their owners over the weekend.

Pidge wouldn’t admit it, but she immensely enjoyed the lighter, fluffy side of journalism. On the outside she often appeared serious and focused, but a story about a bunch of dogs in a swimming pool? Sign her up. She’d much rather write a story about _that_ than about a shooting or a political battle.

Grinning to herself, Pidge typed in her toss.

_Trying to beat the heat? One dog lover planned a puppy pool party to do just that. Stay tuned to Altean Nightly News for move canine coverage._

Lance openly groaned at that one, leaning over the wall of her cubicle and glaring down at the screen.

“ _Puppy_ pool party? _Canine_ coverage? Oh god…”

“It’s great,” Hunk laughed, popping his head up over the other side of her cubicle. “Let’s change the format so that Shiro has to say the toss. He _hates_ when we give him stuff like this to read off the prompter.”

“Just don’t tell him I wrote it,” Pidge paled, suddenly nervous at the idea. Shiro had seemed so mature when she’d met him earlier, so she couldn’t imagine the older anchor being very pleased with her bad use of alliteration.

“Oh he’ll _definitely_ know that you wrote it,” Lance grinned. “The new kid giving him a toss about puppies? He’ll love it.”

Pidge groaned. 

*****

The rest of Pidge’s first day passed by relatively quickly. She took her lunch break with Lance and Hunk, who showed her where the kitchen was and went over the rules of the station’s fridge with her.

“If you don’t put your name on it, then its fair game,” Hunk told her.

“Even if your name _is_ on it though, Hunk might eat it. Fair warning,” Lance quipped, his arms crossed.

“It was _one time_ , Lance!”

“Yeah – one time that I’ll just never happen to forget for the rest of my life.”

Pidge watched the pair bicker, silently chewing on her sandwich and enjoying how easy it was to fall into conversation with the two co-executive producers. They were both talkative and possessed dynamic personalities, and Pidge actually found herself having a lot of fun around them.

Soon, their bickering lapsed into work-related talk.

“Did you call Chief Biles about that electrical fire on Raisman Street?”

“Yeah, but he was being really tight-lipped about whether it was electrically caused or not. He wouldn’t comment on the reports of arson, but he wouldn’t deny them, either.”

“Did Officer Douglass have anything to say?”

“No. He was probably briefed by Biles.”

“We’ll send Keith out there tomorrow then, to try and do some more digging.”

Lance scoffed at the mention of the reporter’s name, and Pidge couldn’t help but exchange a glance with Hunk. He grinned at her, wiggling his eyebrows before leaning forward to look at Lance.

“He _is_ our best reporter,” Hunk noted, no doubt trying to rile his partner up. “I know _you_ couldn’t get anything out of Biles or Douglass, but I bet Keith could.”

Lance whirled on the bigger man, his face bright red at the backhanded insult. “You think _that_ creep is going to be able to crack the story? HA! I doubt it. He’s just going to be a big fat jerk when he talks to them, and then they’ll call him out on it! They’ll say ‘Hey Mr. Reporter, you know what you are? A big fat jerk!’ and then Keith will come back to the station with his tail between his legs!”

“Wow,” Pidge whistled. “You were super passionate about that completely made-up scenario just now.”

Hunk busted out laughing, hitting the table with his fist. Lance seethed, glaring at the two and muttering to himself under his breath.

After their lunch break, they continued working throughout the afternoon until the rundown was polished and the teleprompter script was complete. After that, Hunk and Lance met with returning reporters, who headed to the editing bay to work on their pieces that would go into the show.

When Keith came back to the station, Lance wasted no time to start insulting him. Keith paid him no mind, and instead went back to the control room to edit his story together on his laptop.

“We basically call the control room ‘Keith’s room,’” Hunk told her after the broody reporter had passed by. “He likes to be alone in there.”

“Somehow… I don’t blame him,” she muttered to him, glancing over at Lance, who watched Keith pass with intense hatred.

At 5:30, the producers and the crew gathered in the studio. Pidge watched as the set came to life before her eyes. The overhead lights flickered on, brightening the studio, and the plasma screen behind the news desk blinked to life, featuring the Altean Nightly News logo. Crewmembers wheeled the cameras out into the middle of the room and positioned the shots.

Pidge didn’t realize that Shiro was standing next to her until he spoke in his deep, serious voice.

“Puppies,” he mused. Pidge jolted, looking up at him.

He was holding an iPad up to his face, looking through the teleprompter script. He was also decked out in a black suit and off-white tie.

There were a million different thoughts that came to Pidge’s mind at that moment. The sleeves on his suit were tight. She could practically see the outline of his muscles underneath the dark fabric. The suit looked _good_ on him. Okay – more than just _good_. He looked _hot_. Wait, no – that _definitely_ wasn’t a mature word to use when describing a professional news anchor. He looked… _dashing? Sophisticated? Charming?_ That was better.

Pidge figured that it was only polite to point these observations out to the older man.

“Your tie matches your hair,” she blurted out instead.

 _Dashing, sophisticated, charming_. She could have used any of those words to compliment his suit, and she went with the color-coordination of his tie and hair?!

Pidge silently screamed, turning to face forward so she could hide her bright red face.

Thankfully, Shiro seemed too focused on the iPad to even notice that Pidge had spoken. Instead, he pushed the device toward her. “Puppies,” he repeated again. “Your first day on the job, and you write me a toss about a puppy pool party.”

 _Oh_. So _that’s_ what he’d meant when he first walked up to her.

“It’s hard-hitting journalism,” she winced, watching as Shiro squinted. For a moment she thought he was going to yell at her, so she was relieved when a grin cracked across his face.

“Isn’t it more like _hound-hitting_ journalism?”

“… Oh my god.”

Soon they were both laughing, Pidge holding her side and doubling over at his horrible use of the pun. “I thought you were going to be angry,” she admitted, looking up at the older man once she was able to breathe again.

He glanced down at her curiously. “Why’s that?”

“Hunk and Lance told me that you _hate_ tosses like this. They said you like more serious journalism.”

“And you believed them?”

“Uh, well… I just figured…”

“No, I’m just messing with you, don’t worry,” Shiro chuckled. “They’re right. Reading this tonight will be absolutely cringe-worthy.”

Pidge’s brows furrowed. “Then why aren’t you…?”

“It’s your first day. I’m sure they made you switch the toss from Allura to me,” Shiro said. Pidge looked down quickly, her quietness confirming his suspicions. “But I’ve got to admit that this was a pretty solid puppy toss, so I couldn’t be mad.” He ruffled her hair before walking toward the desk and flashing a thumbs up over his shoulder. “Good work, new kid.”

Pidge patted down her hair, staring after him. “Um… yeah, thanks.”

She didn’t stop staring at his back until Hunk grabbed her arm and whisked her away to the control room, telling her that the show was about to start. 

*****

The puppy toss ended up being a hit with the crew, and especially with Allura. She started laughing so loudly during it that Hunk and Lance had to mute her microphone even before they went into commercial.

Pidge watched the two anchors on the monitors. She sat in the back beside Keith, who liked to watch the show from the control room when he wasn’t out doing a live shot.

"You wrote that?” He questioned, glancing down at her.

“I thought some alliteration couldn’t hurt.”

Keith chuckled. “Shiro looks like he _loved_ it.”

Shiro was, in fact, scowling into the camera. Pidge jumped back a bit, feeling almost as if the older anchor was glaring directly at her. However, then a smile cracked, and he chuckled along with Allura, who at that point was in an uproar.

“Phew,” Pidge sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Looks like you’re off the hook,” Keith noticed.

“And someone already tweeted at us, too,” Lance laughed, holding his phone out to them. “Viewers eat this sort of stuff up.”

“I’m flattered, but I’m also reminding you guys that I have a degree in investigative journalism,” Pidge pointed out.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you on some stories soon,” Hunk reassured her, his head turned away as he scribbled onto his copy of his rundown.

“Unless you just want to work as our designated toss writer,” Lance suggested.

 "Yeah… I’ll pass, thanks.”

The rest of the show went along smoothly. Keith’s piece was about potential pollution in a nearby city’s water supply – a solid investigative piece. Pidge turned to face the reporter, her brows raised.

“You're an investigative reporter?”

“Yeah,” Keith shrugged. “I’ve been working on this story for awhile now, and I almost have it wrapped up. The city’s already discussing financial compensation to the people affected.”

“Wow, that’s amazing! And you exposed them?”

“With some help from some local newspapers, but yes.”

“Keith was the first to break the story, though,” Hunk commented from his seat. “Give yourself more credit, buddy!”

Lance scoffed, rolling his eyes at Hunk’s forward praise. “Keith, stop talking.”

“I wasn’t…?”

“Whatever, and we’re back in 3, 2, 1…”

After the show, Hunk and Lance gathered the team together to go over some feedback and announcements.

“We’ll have to keep a close eye on the local race for mayor,” Hunk told everyone, reading from a list of notes he’d jotted down. “There’s a debate coming up next week, so we’ll have someone cover that when it happens. Also, Keith’s investigative piece on the water contamination is wrapping up, so we’ll need a new long-term story to cover.”

“I’ll keep my ears open for the next few days,” Keith muttered seriously, arms crossed as he stood in the back.

“We’ve also got a new addition to the team, if you haven’t met her yet,” a voice sounded from the door of the studio. A redheaded, older gentleman stepped up to the desk, and Pidge recognized him as Coran, the station manager who had interviewed her for the position.

“Right. Everyone, this is Pidge,” Lance announced, gesturing for her to turn around and face the crew. “She’s just out of college, and she’s working as our new associate producer. Oh, and she loves puppies, apparently.”

The rest of the crew chuckled, Shiro groaned from his seat at his desk, and Pidge wondered if that toss was unfortunately going to stick with her reputation for the rest of her time here.

After her introduction, Hunk and Lance wrapped up the meeting. The crew shut down and locked up the studio, and Pidge grabbed her bag from her cubicle before making her way outside with the others.

The city streets were warm and humid, and Pidge pulled at her collar irritably. It was going to be a long and sweaty trek home, that was for sure.

“You’ve settled in well, I hope?” Coran asked her, stepping beside her as he rummaged for his car keys in his bag.

“Yes, sir,” Pidge grinned. “It’s busy here. I like it.”

“I don't,” Coran scoffed. “Sometimes I wish you kids would just slow down for once so I could catch up. Oh well.” He waved before crossing the street toward the parking garage.

“Good work today,” Allura cheered, coming up behind the younger girl and throwing an arm around her shoulder affectionately. Shiro followed behind Allura, waving at Pidge as they too, crossed the road to go find their cars.

“Ugh, let’s get out of this heat,” Lance groaned, stretching his arms in the air. “You live close by, Pidge? We’ll walk with you.”

Pidge winced, rubbing the back of her neck. “I actually have an apartment across town, so I have to take the subway and walk a bit…”

“Across town?” Hunk questioned, his voice laced with concern. “That’s far, Pidge.”

“It is what it is,” Pidge shrugged.

She didn’t want to discuss her living situation with her two seniors. She didn’t want to tell them how she’d only been able to find a single bedroom apartment on such short notice, and that her monthly rent was staggering. Pidge was already stressed about it, and she was still working through the numbers and trying to figure out how much she could allot to food, clothes, and other necessities per month.

It wasn’t like her new job paid that well, after all. It was an entry-level position. She hadn’t expected anything amazing…

She’d just have to keep her eye out on different leases online. She needed to find a cheaper apartment fast, or else she might be in a bit of trouble with her monthly rent.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Pidge waved, shouldering her bag and making her way down the street toward the subway station. She could feel Hunk and Lance watching her go, no doubt concerned that she was making such a long trek back home by herself.

After twenty-five stops, two train-transfers, and a fifteen minute walk later, Pidge finally reached her apartment. It was pretty spacious considering she lived alone and had hardly filled it with any furniture.

Pidge yawned, dropping her bag to the floor and slipping off her shoes. It was already 8:30, and she was too tired to make herself dinner. Her first day had been hectic, and her brain was coming down from the social overload she’d just experienced from meeting so many new people.

Pidge quickly changed into her pajamas and washed and brushed her teeth before crashing into bed, her tablet close to her face as she mindlessly surfed the web.

Soon she found herself on the Voltron News website, reading an article written by her brother. It was an update on a shooting that happened on the west coast of the country.

He only wrote national stories now, ever since his incident overseas. It was good for him, but Matt didn't quite write with the same fervor that he had when he covered international news.

Her phone buzzed, and Pidge reached for it, laughing when she saw Matt’s name flash across the screen.

_So… how was your first day at your first real job? – M_

_I was just reading your latest article! And good. I wrote about puppies. – P_

_Wow! Looks like they kept somePAWdy busy, huh? – M_

_Stop. Please stop. – P_

_Do you like your coworkers? – M_

_Yeah. They’re nice. Sort of eccentric, but I like them. I’ll call you and tell you about it this weekend when I have time. – P_

_Looking forward to it. Night. – M_

_Night. – P_

Pidge grinned before rolling over and shutting off her light.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word count: 5.5K
> 
> In which Pidge has her first Sunday off, and shenanigans involving a certain anchor ensues.

“ _Wow_ ,” Lance breathed, bringing the cup back up to his lips. “Woooow, this is good coffee.”

The lanky producer hung over the wall of Pidge’s cubical, something he’d grown accustomed to doing over the past few days. She grinned up at his expression.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said. “It was this little place near my subway stop.”

“We’ll have to put you in charge of the coffee run more often,” Lance joked.

It’d been her first morning on the “coffee run,” as Lance had dubbed it. Each morning, a different member of the news team was placed in charge of getting the morning coffee for everyone. Allura had gone yesterday, picking up drinks from Starbucks. The day before that, Hunk had stopped at Dunkin Donuts.

Pidge hadn’t wanted to mention how tight her money situation was at the moment, so instead she had grinned and bore it when Lance had stopped her after the show last night and officially declared it her turn for the job.

Luckily, she’d stumbled across a local coffee shop on her commute that’d been pretty cheap; however it’d still burned a decent sized hole through her wallet regardless.

“Thanks, Pidge,” Hunk said, accepting his drink as she handed it to him. He stood above her desk chair, sampling the coffee and nodding approvingly when he tasted it. “It’s not Dunkin, but I like it.”

“Dunkin is overrated,” Lance scoffed. Hunk frowned.

“Overrated? How dare you!”

The two producers launched into a heated debate then, exchanging arguments over the coffee chain.

Pidge let the pair bicker, and instead grabbed two drinks from the tray and made her way through the halls to find the other members of their team. She ran into Keith first, who accepted the coffee graciously. She didn't comment on the prominent bags under his eyes, but she couldn’t help wonder if the reporter was sleeping well or not.

She knocked on Allura’s door next, and pushed it open when she heard the older woman grant her entry. She was sitting atop her desk, and Shiro leaned against the large bookcase to the right of the room.

“Coffee,” Pidge offered. Allura jumped down and grinned when Pidge handed her the drink.

“Castle Café? Never heard of it,” she remarked curiously, taking a sip. “It’s good! Much better than what Hunk brought us the other day.”

“You can join Lance’s side, then,” Pidge laughed. “They’re fighting right now.”

Pidge let her eyes wander to Shiro. He was wearing another long-sleeved shirt today, even in the dead of summer.

Granted, it was air-conditioned in the building, but Pidge still wore a tank top and shorts to the studio. They weren’t strict on the dress code, which she was thankful for. Her father and brother had offered to buy her clothes for work, but Pidge prided herself on getting by on her own.

So… tank top and shorts it was. It was cheaper than a skirt and a blouse.

But long-sleeves? It was too hot outside for that. Did the heat not bother Shiro?

He cocked his head at her, catching her staring, so Pidge quickly responded by holding up a hand. “Coffee?” She offered.

Shiro raised a brow. “An imaginary cup?”

Pidge looked down. Her hand was indeed empty. In her flustered state, she’d completely forgotten that she’d already given the two cups of coffee away.

“A-at my desk!” Pidge laughed, pushing open the office door. “Let’s take a field trip to the land of cubicles.”

“I don’t often venture around those parts,” Shiro said in mock seriousness, following after her. Pidge tried to ignore Allura’s knowing glances as they made their way out.

When they reached Pidge’s desk, her eyes widened at the mess that greeted her.

“My picture!” She exclaimed, pushing past Hunk and Lance and picking up her soggy, destroyed print out of the puddle of coffee. Shiro came up behind her, eyeing her ruined treasure.

“We’re sorry, Pidge!” Hunk exclaimed guilty, standing at her shoulder with his head hung. “We really didn’t mean to! We’ll clean it up, I’ll go get some paper towels…” He hurried away with Lance, leaving Pidge to look down at the mess dejectedly.

“Was it of family?” Shiro asked softly, taking the brown, completely stained picture from her hands. Pidge nodded, sighing.

“It was of me and my brother,” she told him. “We took it back when I was a kid, after he finished college.”

“Do you have a backup somewhere on your computer? You could print another.”

“It’s somewhere on the family computer back home,” Pidge groaned. “I’ll have to look for it next time I visit, but our hard-drive is so unorganized that it might take awhile…”

Hunk and Lance returned and set to work on cleaning her desk. Hunk kept apologizing, even though Lance admitted that he’d been the one who had knocked the cup over during their frenzied debate over the quality of Dunkin Donuts. Although Pidge was disappointed over her picture (she’d had the same print since it’d been taken, and had carried it around with her from high school, to college, and to here), she couldn’t stay mad at the two. They’d apologized more than enough, and she could tell they were sincere.

“When you go home for the holidays, you could reprint it then,” Shiro suggested, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “And besides – we’ll just take a bunch of pictures together to replace it. Soon, you’re desk will be overflowing with them.”

Pidge couldn’t help the slight dusting of red that bloomed over her cheeks. It was a sincere, thoughtful offer on his part. She smiled up at the anchor, and handed him the last cup of coffee. “Here.”

He took it gratefully and grinned before digging into his pocket and taking out his phone. She was surprised when he suddenly grabbed her shoulder and ducked down, getting both of them into the frame of his phone’s camera.

It was a simple selfie – one with their coffee cups in hand as they beamed at the camera – and Pidge was sure that Shiro had a dozen more just like it with other people around the studio. Still, her heart soared when he tucked his phone back into his pocket and talked of getting a print out of the picture soon.

When he was gone, she couldn’t help but notice Hunk and Lance shooting her periodic glances.

“First selfie with the anchor,” Lance whistled. “I didn’t get one of those until half a year in, at a bar after work.”

“I’ve never taken a picture with Shiro,” Hunk confessed. “I have a lot with Allura though.”

“Wait, what?” Pidge laughed. “You guys are lying.”

“We’re really not,” Hunk shrugged. “Shiro doesn’t usually hang out with us much. He’s pretty private... pretty quiet. Like Keith.”

Lance rolled his eyes at the mention of the reporter, but Pidge didn’t pay it much mind. She was genuinely surprised. Shiro, private? Quiet? Sure, he seemed like a pretty serious guy, but so far he’d been very welcoming and open.

“I’m sure he just took the picture to make me feel better,” Pidge said, trying to ignore the producers’ knowing glances. They were just like Allura! Was _everyone_ crazy in this office?

Still, she couldn’t help but think about the selfie and smile. It was very considerate of Shiro. She glanced down at her soggy, ruined picture before throwing it in the trash below her desk.

Suddenly, she didn’t feel so bad about it anymore.

*****

“Thanks for helping me,” Keith muttered, adjusting the shot on the camera and stepping back so Pidge could inspect it. She squinted into the eyepiece, and focused the shot a bit before motioning for the reporter to step into the frame.

“It’s no problem,” Pidge answered, tinkering with some buttons on the side of the camera. She gave a thumbs-up when she was done, and Keith stepped back up to join her.

“You probably had other work to do… I don’t usually need someone to carry the camera and help me set up, but…” He flexed his wrist, which was wrapped in bandages. Pidge glanced down at it, pushing her glasses closer to her face.

“Did you sprain it?” She asked hesitantly. She still hadn’t talked much with Keith in the week she’d been employed at the station. She wasn’t quite sure if it was her place to ask.

However, Keith was blunt.

“No. I punched a wall.”

“… Ah…”

Pidge didn’t really know what to say to that one. Keith clearly wasn’t up for elaborating, because he grabbed the microphone in his good hand and stood in front of the camera again.

“Ready?”

Pidge nodded and pressed record.

“I’m Keith Kogane, reporting for Altean Nightly News…”

 

An hour later the pair sat in the park, deciding to stop for lunch after gathering b-roll for Keith’s package. They both sat on a bench, eating burgers out of plastic wrappers.

“Thanks for paying,” Pidge told the older boy sheepishly, nibbling on her sandwich. She’d tried to pay for her own meal when they were at the vendor’s stall, but after shaking her wallet loose for a few moments and trying to find enough bills, Keith had offered to treat her instead.

“Are you struggling with money?” Keith asked quietly, looking at the fountain across the park. Pidge watched the bubbling water as well, grimacing at his question.

“Why do you ask?”

“I’m a reporter. I’m observant.”

“…”

“They can’t be paying you much as an entry-level producer,” Keith shrugged. “I bet you’re still paying off college debts because you were too stubborn to let your family pay for you… you strike me as that type. And you say you live across town, but those are expensive neighborhoods. Why are you living there if you’re tight on cash?”

Pidge bit her lip. He _was_ observant. No wonder he was in this line of work. Though, she was pretty perceptive herself.

“Well… why did _you_ punch a wall?” She countered, refusing to be the only one answering questions here. “Is someone upsetting you?”

Keith chuckled, taking a bite of his burger. “You go first.”

“… Yeah,” she sighed. “I’m on an entry-level salary and I’m still looking for a cheaper apartment, but I had to move into the city for the job. And the Garrison wasn’t cheap.”

He regarded her for a second, and laughed. “I punched a wall because of Lance.”

“Because of Lance?” Pidge snorted. Keith nodded.

“He confuses me.”

“I’m pretty sure he confuses _everyone_ ,” Pidge told him. “He’s hyperactive and crazy.”

“Not… like that,” Keith muttered, shaking his head. “I barely know you, I don’t know why I’m talking to you about this.”

“I mean, you basically guessed all of my problems right off the bat. It’s only fair,” Pidge said. “You… can’t tell anyone back at the station. I don’t want them to worry.”

“That you’re basically broke?”

“They’ll try to help me, and I don't need help,” Pidge huffed. “Coran is nice, I know he’d offer to pay me more, but I want to _earn_ my pay raise, whenever that comes.”

Keith regarded Pidge silently; his dark eyes steady on her face. Finally, after a few beats of silence, Keith stuck out his good hand.

“You’re not bad,” Keith said. Pidge grinned, grasping his hand and shaking it.

They’d told her that Keith was quiet – that he didn’t usually hang out with co-workers.

Maybe she was becoming an exception.

“… And if you tell anyone about why I punched the wall… I’ll kill you.”

“Alright, alright!”

 

They arrived back at the studio late in the afternoon. Keith handled the camera bag in his good hand, and Pidge practically dragged the tripod behind her, trying not to topple over under the weight.

“Sorry,” Keith winced, watching her struggle as he shouldered open the door for her. “That thing is basically taller than you.”

“Is not!” Pidge huffed, carrying it into the studio.

They made the long journey down the hall toward the supply closet. She passed her row of cubicles, where Hunk and Lance’s desks were empty. It _was_ close to six after all, so they were probably running around and prepping for the show.

“I lugged this stuff around all the time in school,” Pidge tried to brag, lifting her shoulders up higher and carrying the heavy tripod in her arms. Keith gave her a wilting look, as if seeing past her bravado.

“Whatever you say.”

“This isn’t heavy at all!”

“I believe you.”

“It’s a piece of – _wah!_ ”

Pidge turned the corner and collided into a firm chest. The jolt sent her staggering backwards, the weight of the tripod knocking her off balance.

Keith yelled behind her, but before she hit the ground a strong arm wrapped around her middle and kept her upright. The tripod clattered to the floor, and Pidge peeked an eye open behind her crooked glasses.

Shiro, dressed in his signature suit and off-white tie, helped her stand upright. “Are you alright?”

“I-I’m fine!” Pidge stammered, stepping back.

“You should have taken one of the lighter tripods,” Shiro sighed, bending down to pick the tripod up off the ground.

“No way!” Pidge protested, dusting off her shirt. She made a grab for the contraption, but Shiro held it out of reach. “This one is the most sturdy. The smaller ones are cheap.”

“Sorry, Shiro,” Keith winced as Shiro took the camera bag from him as well. With his good-hand now free, Keith rubbed his bandaged wrist.

“You’re going to wrinkle your suit!” Pidge made another grab for the equipment, which Shiro held out of reach from the smaller-than-average girl. He laughed and walked toward the supply closet, with Pidge pestering him the entire time.

“Let people help you once in awhile,” Shiro said, placing the equipment back in the closet and turning on her. “It seems like you never do.”

Pidge crossed her arms and puffed out her cheeks. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but Shiro was hitting awfully close to home on the whole “let people help you” thing.

She’d always been a stubborn person. Keith had seemed to notice it, and now Shrio was too.

And although Keith’s genuine concern had really made her happy, this felt different.

She couldn’t explain why, but _Shiro’s_ words made her stomach twist into knots.

“The show starts in ten,” Shiro chuckled, patting her on the shoulder before walking away. Pidge watched him go, her eyes narrowed.

Keith observed the pair, his arms crossed as he watched Shiro leave. “Interesting,” he muttered to himself.

Pidge whirled on him, pushing up her glasses. “What?”

“Nothing,” Keith grinned, walking by her as well. Pidge was left alone in the hallway. She tried to shake off the knot she felt in the pit of her stomach before hurrying after the guys to start the show.

*****

Pidge’s first week at Altean News flew by, despite the added stress she faced each night while looking for new apartments to live in. Work was _fun_ – it was energetic and fast-paced and her co-workers were just as wacky as she was.

So, she was almost beside herself on how to spend her time when she woke up on Sunday morning and realized it was her first official day-off from work.

Pidge sat in bed, watching the sunrise through her window. It was only six in the morning, and any other sane person would have fallen back against their pillow and continued sleeping on a day off. She could almost picture Hunk and Lance snoring away in bed until noon. Even Allura would probably get her beauty sleep until the later hours of the morning.

However, Pidge was far from sane (which she was proud of), and knew that the more she slept in, the less productive she’d be throughout the day.

Just because it was Sunday didn’t mean she didn’t have a ton to do. She was dangerously low on edible food in the fridge, and she needed to keep apartment hunting. It was also about time she made a phone call home to mom and dad, as well as catch up on her reading.

But first, Pidge decided to text the person she knew would be up at six in the morning on a Sunday.

_Good morning! Want to talk to your most amazing sister? –P_

_I’m about to go on my morning run. Can I call you after? -M_

Pidge paused at that, squinting at her screen. Run? Matt _ran_? Since when?

_Is this a daily thing you do? – P_

_Of course! Gotta stay in shape, am I right? We’re journalists, we don’t exactly get a workout in the office everyday!– M_

A beat, and then another ping.

_Jogging is good for you! You should try it! - M_

Pidge huffed, throwing down her phone and drawing her knees into her chest.

Besides being extremely close to her brother, Pidge was also highly competitive with him as well.

He’d been an A student in high school. Pidge had worked herself extremely hard to be one herself.

He’d graduated from the Garrison with top marks. A few years later, she’d done the same.

He worked at the most highly acclaimed news organization in the country. As far as she was concerned, she was on her way there as well.

Since they were little, Pidge had worked her hardest to not fall behind. Her parents were so extremely proud of Matt, and Pidge had made it her mission to be just as perfect at her big brother.

So now he was a runner, huh? It couldn’t be _that_ hard. It _was_ a beautiful morning, after all. Some fresh air would be good for her.

Nodding to herself in determination, Pidge jumped out of bed and threw open her closet. She knew she had workout clothes _somewhere_.

 

An hour later, Pidge was immensely regretting her competitive nature with her brother.

Turns out running five miles was not easy in the slightest, but actually _extremely_ difficult. Actually, scratch that – just doing a _mile_ made her want to curl up on the ground and die.

What’s worse, Pidge had thought it’d be a good idea to run in the park downtown. She’d taken the subway to get there. And while the scenery was nice and the trees were shady on her face, it was also a popular destination for other runners. Other… _experienced_ runners.

And Pidge was most certainty _not_ an experienced runner.

“So much for Sunday productivity,” Pidge groaned, sitting slumped in front of the fountain she and Keith had eaten in front of a few days before. She was sweaty and hot and wearing an old ratty t-shirt from high school.

So… this hadn’t been her _best_ idea. It was okay though! No one knew her here, and when Matt called she’d just brag about how _totally not tired_ she was after her run, and –

“Pidge!”

“Argh!”

Pidge whirled, nearly losing her balance and tipping back into the fountain. A large arm steadied her, and once she was upright again she turned to face the man beside her.

 _Oh for the love of – of_ all _the people!_

Shiro smiled kindly down at her. He was slicked in sweat but still somehow managed to look handsome.

… Of course this would happen to her. It was her first run since she’d been forced to participate in the mile jog in high school gym class. Of _course_ her cute anchor was the one to run into her here, half dead and exhausted.

She noted that he wore a long-sleeved shirt and running shorts. Either Shiro wasn’t bothered by the heat at all, or he just didn’t happen to own any t-shirts. She honestly couldn’t tell.

“Hi,” Pidge managed to say behind her burning cheeks. “Uh… what brings you to these parts?”

“These parts?” Shiro chuckled, taking a seat beside her. He chugged a bottle of water in one hand before answering. “I always run in the park on weekend mornings.”

 _He’s handsome, he’s good at reading a teleprompter,_ and _he runs,_ Pidge thought miserably. She discreetly tried to air out the collar of her t-shirt, which she knew was probably drenched in sweat.

“I didn’t know you were a runner, Pidge.”

“… I’m really not,” Pidge groaned, flopping down against the edge of the fountain. Shiro looked down at her curiously. “I found out that my brother runs every Sunday morning, so I… well…”

Shrio paused for a beat for bursting out into laughter. Pidge glanced up at him with narrowed eyes.

“Sorry,” Shiro grinned, waving a hand in front of his face. “So you went on a run at seven in the morning just to compete with your brother?”

Coming out of his mouth, it _did_ sound kind of ridiculous. Pidge puffed out her cheeks, digging her elbows into her knees and her chin into her hands.

“It’s more complicated than that,” she tried to explain.

“Pidge, don’t worry, I’m only joking. Of course I get it.”

“… You do?”

Shiro shrugged. “I’ve never had any siblings, so maybe not entirely… but I do understand. It’s sort of a competition over attention, isn’t it?”

 _He’s a journalist. He’s perceptive,_ Pidge remembered. She nodded.

“Is your brother successful?” He asked.

“Very,” Pidge laughed bitterly. “He’s a journalist, like my dad, and like me… he’s my best friend, and I could never say anything bad about him, but…”

“But you’re scared that if you don’t keep up with him, you’ll be lost in his shadow?”

“You’re even scarier than Keith,” Pidge mused aloud at his observation.

Shiro chuckled at that, and stood up before offering a hand. She took it, and the anchor helped pull her to her feet.

“You know…” Pidge looked up as Shiro spoke. “If you want to, and if you _do_ want to start running, we could go together.”

Pidge paused at the offer.

He wanted to… help her? _Really?_

“But I’m not any good,” she explained slowly. “I would only slow you down, I couldn’t –”

“I’d be happy too.”

“I can’t even run a mile, I –”

“We all start somewhere.”

“I almost puked in the fountain earlier, so I don’t think –”

It was a continued back and forth of this. Pidge kept trying to give reasons as to why the older anchor shouldn’t help her, but Shiro kept deflecting them with good-natured encouragement.

 _This guy is too nice for his own good_ , Pidge though wearily.

Finally, she sighed before nodding. “Sure,” she said. “If you’re _that_ willing to help me…”

Shiro patted her on the back, his face lit up in a grin. Pidge couldn’t help but smile back at him.

"Great! We can start next weekend!"

"Well... okay!"

Looks like she was going to get serious about working out after all…

But with Shiro as her mentor, it didn’t feel bad at all.

***** 

An hour later, the pair found themselves in a local grocery store. They were both still in their sweaty workout clothes, but Pidge had talked about needing to restock her fridge, and Shiro had directed her to his favorite store that usually had the best sales.

They ambled through the aisles together, engrossed in conversation as they searched for the items on Pidge’s grocery list.

Pidge was surprised by how comfortable it felt to just shop with Shiro. Just a few days ago, she no doubt would have found this extremely uncomfortable and awkward.

Shiro hadn’t been intimidating or anything… just… _too_ perfect. He was handsome and well spoken and good as what he does. She’d seen him as a role model; someone inspiring yet sort of unapproachable.

But now, she couldn’t help thinking about their selfie the other day, or the tripod incident, or the fact that he’d _literally_ just signed himself up to act as her personal trainer.

Could she call him a friend instead of a coworker now? Pidge hoped so. She already considered Hunk and Lance her friends. This odd relationship she was forming with Shiro… it counted as friendship, right?

“Earth to Gunderson,” Shiro called, knocking lightly at the side of her temple. She whirled, and he held up a frozen chicken for her to see. “Is this the right brand?”

“Uhh…” Pidge glanced down at her list to make sure. “Yes. Yeah, it is.”

Shiro placed the chicken gently down into the cart before moving along. He’d insisted that he push, leaving Pidge to trail along behind him and scan the shelves.

After double-checking her list, Pidge and Shiro approached the counter. She had to carefully calculate the amount she was allotting to food, and went through the costs of the groceries a few times to make sure she wasn’t going over her small budget. If Shiro noticed, he didn’t say anything.

After paying at the counter, they both carried the bags of groceries onto the subway. The store they’d visited was much closer to her apartment than the station was, so before Pidge knew it she was unlocking her door and entering her apartment… with one of Altean Nightly New’s lead anchors right behind her.

“Thanks,” Pidge said when Shiro set the bags of groceries down onto her kitchen table. He glanced around her apartment, which was not decorated and sparsely furnished.

“You live here alone?” He asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

“Yeah,” Pidge answered casually, trying to shrug off the topic. She already had Keith worrying about her living situation, she didn’t want Shiro to worry on top of that. “I’m looking for a smaller one, don’t worry.”

“A single apartment, or one with roommates?”

“Roommates, preferably. I uh… need a cheaper rent.”

That was all she would offer him, and Shiro seemed to get the hint. He started helping her load groceries into the fridge instead.

They worked in silence, and Pidge was surprised by how comfortable it was. She would have never imagined doing this with her anchor earlier this morning, yet here she was.

She’d have to tell Matt all about it. He’d been worried about her making friends. She hadn’t exactly been a social butterfly in college. He’d be happy for her.

At some point during their time in the kitchen, Shiro went into the living room to make a hushed phone call. It was probably something work-related, she figured. Or maybe it was his girlfriend calling up?

Pidge chuckled at that. Was she seriously wondering if Shiro had a girlfriend? Why did she even care? That was something love-struck heroines did in movies. And she was neither love-struck _nor_ a heroine.

“So,” Pidge said casually as Shiro walked back in. He placed his phone in his pocket and took a seat at the kitchen table. “You hungry?”

“Starving, actually,” Shiro laughed.

“Well, if you don’t value your life that much, I could cook us something,” Pidge joked.

“Hmm… well what’s on the menu, Chef Gunderson?”

“Grilled cheese,” Pidge offered. “Or mac and cheese.”

“Home-cooked or Kraft?”

“Oh, Kraft, obviously.” Pidge opened up the cabinet above the stove and pushed a box of Spongebob shaped mac and cheese toward him. “I boil water and _everything_. It took me years to master.”

“Well, I can’t say no to that,” Shiro grinned, pushing the box back toward her.

She set to work making the mac and cheese, almost making a show out of it. Shiro kept asking her questions as if he was an intrigued viewer and she was a master chef.

“What’s that?” He asked, pointing to the pot she pulled out of one of her drawers.

“Ahh, the Steel Master 6000. A personal favorite,” Pidge announced in a professional voice. She filled up the pot with water and placed it on the stove.

“Fascinating,” Shiro mused, as they waited for the water to boil. Once it was done, Pidge measured out two servings of mac and cheese and was about to pour the pasta into the boiling water when Shiro stopped her.

“Can you make four servings?”

Pidge paused, raising a brow at him.

“I eat a lot,” he shrugged.

Shiro didn’t look like the type to eat three whole servings. He was muscular and much larger than her, sure, but he wasn’t _that_ big. Still, she didn’t question it as she added the two extra servings into the pot and started to stir it with her spoon.

Fifteen minutes later, she was draining the pasta in the strainer. She was just mixing in the powered cheese when there was a knock at the front door.

Pidge froze, her eyes widening slightly. Was it the landlord? She’d already paid her month’s rent, why would he –

“I got it,” Shiro said casually, getting up from his seat.

“Uh, what?” Pidge followed after him in confusion, and her eyes widened when Shiro pulled open the door.

“Surprise!” Hunk grinned, standing in the doorway next to Lance. The two producers let themselves in, and Pidge stood staring at them.

“What are you two –”

“Shiro promised us food, I hope he wasn’t lying,” Lance said casually, stepping past her and looking around her apartment.

“It’s mac and cheese, my favorite!” Hunk called from the kitchen. She could already hear him rummaging around in her kitchen for a plate.

“Wait,” Pidge whirled on Shiro, her eyes narrowed. Had he… invited them over? Without even asking her first?

Shiro looked down at her innocently, a sly grin playing on his lips. “What?”

“What gives? Why did you –”

“Aww, don’t get mad at Shiro,” Lance said, coming up behind Pidge and throwing a lanky arm around her shoulder. Hunk joined them on her other side, a bowl of mac and cheese and a fork in his hands.

“Yeah,” Hunk agreed. “It’s only fair that you feed us lunch today. You’ll be living with us from now on, after all.”

“Excuse me, I don’t owe you guys anyth – _wait_.” Pidge stopped mid-sentence, looking between Hunk, Lance, and Shiro. They were all grinning. “Living with _who_?”

“Well… you said you needed cheaper rent,” Shiro shrugged. “Pidge, meet your new roommates. They have a great apartment downtown closer to the station, and an extra bedroom.”

 _The phone call_. So _that’s_ who Shiro had been on the phone with earlier.

“Pidge, we had no idea that you were looking for a cheaper apartment! Why didn’t you tell us?” Hunk scolded her, chewing a spoonful of mac and cheese.

“I-I didn’t know that you guys had extra room, and I didn’t want to bug you with my problems.”

“You’re not _bugging_ us,” Lance sighed. “You’re in a pinch, and we’re your friends who want to help.”

_Oh._

Pidge looked around the room at her three coworkers before quickly rubbing at her watering eyes. She’d been so _stressed_ about money and food and her new job that she hadn’t even thought about asking anyone else for help.

And she’d tried to play off her problems as nothing, but Shiro had somehow detected the urgency in her voice. He’d called Hunk and Lance in a heartbeat. And her two producers… they had agreed to take her in in a heartbeat as well.

Living with roommates would cut her rent into thirds. She wouldn’t have to worry about getting by each month, or wondering if she’d even have enough for groceries.

It was a giant weight lifted off her back.

“Aw man, don’t cry,” Lance laughed, pulling the girl into a hug. “You’re part of the team now!”

“Group hug!” Hunk cheered, wrapping his beefy arms around the two. He ushered for Shiro, who chuckled before joining in.

A few minutes later, Hunk and Lance were both in the kitchen enjoying her masterful meal of Kraft mac and cheese. Shiro turned to join them, but Pidge grabbed his sleeve and stopped him.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” she muttered, glancing down at the floor. How Shiro had been able to figure out the urgency of her situation was beyond her.

“I saw you stressing out the grocery store,” Shiro answered, turning to face her. “I figured something was wrong. You really should have told us, or asked Coran for a raise. He would have given it to you.”

“I was fine.”

“Pidge…”

“Okay, I wasn’t,” Pidge shrugged. “But I am now… so thank you.”

Before she could lose her nerve, Pidge reached up and hugged the older anchor around the neck. Shiro stiffened for a beat before returning the hug. His arms were tight around her shoulders.

She was hugging him to portray her gratitude. To show him that what he’d done for her meant a lot.

It was a friendly hug… just between friends.

But after they pulled away, Pidge was quick to duck under his shoulder and into the kitchen to join Hunk and Lance.

That strange knot was back inside the pit of her stomach.

And this time, she thought she had an idea why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry for such a long hiatus. I started school right after writing the first chapter, and it got really hectic! I was slowly and surely writing this chapter over the past couple months. I hope you enjoy, and I'll try to be speedier with the next update!


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